


G'morning, Mr. Coffee

by purgay



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Cheesy, Fluff, M/M, barista!cas, coffee shop AU, mechanic!Dean
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-13
Updated: 2014-08-13
Packaged: 2018-02-12 23:11:44
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,405
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2127996
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/purgay/pseuds/purgay
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean needs his coffee and unfortunately the universe hates him. This is how Dean ends up at Angelcakes Coffee & Confections. Cue cheesy romance music.</p>
            </blockquote>





	G'morning, Mr. Coffee

Dean needs his coffee, keyword being,  _his_.

He hates Starbucks, with their over priced mocha-caramel- _whateverchinos_ , hippy baristas and frankly,  _shitty_  music selections. No, there was absolutely no Starbucks in Dean Winchester’s life.

Dean likes  _his_  coffee; the cheap, generic, bold blend from the grocery store brewed to mediocre perfection in his Mr. Coffee every morning at 5am. No sugar, no cream, _no fucking pumpkin spice or nutmeg_ , just plain old black coffee.

That’s why, when the universe seemed to be particularly cruel one early Thursday morning, Dean finds himself standing in front of Angelcakes Coffee & Confections. His faithful Mr. Coffee had went kaput in an electrical spark that almost had Dean jumping clear out of his boxers. He had stood in the kitchen, bleary eyed and languid, staring at the broken coffee machine trying to get his sleepy mind to process what exactly happened.

He could of just gone to work at the auto shop and drank down some sludge from the break room, but even his stomach couldn’t handle that rot, especially not at seven in the morning and no force of nature was going to make him break his no Starbucks rule.

Nope, Dean didn’t have a whole lot of options.

 

Fast-forwarding back to the present, Dean stands with his hands shoved into his jacket pockets, pulling the warmth tighter around him, while staring up at the pastel sign reading “Angelcakes”. The lettering was equipped with little wings and a halo, which Dean found hilarious considering the owner, Gabriel, was anything but.

It wasn’t his first time going to the little shop. Dean stopped by almost every day after his shift because damn, if Gabriel didn’t make a mean slice of apple pie. Dean sniffs the air, yep, there is  _definitely_  one of those babies baking while he stalls out on the sidewalk.

Gabe insistently badgered Dean daily to try some of their coffee. It was always, “ _you know what would go great with that pie? A nice, warm cinnamon latte_ ” or “ _it’s getting pretty cold out there, let me get you a caramel mocha for the road_.” Each time Dean would respectfully decline and slowly it became a game to Gabe- the “what-weird-and-bizarre-drink-combo-can-I-bribe-Dean-Winchester-with” game (on one occasion he bribed Dean with coffee he swore was spiked with holy water). So, Dean silently prays that it won’t be Gabe behind the counter this particular morning.

When he pushes through the door and the shrill  _ting-ting_  of the bell echoes through the empty shop there was no boisterous “hey Dean-o!” greeting him.

Maybe the universe didn’t hate him to bad.

The guy behind the counter doesn’t even turn around, only continues to wipe down the surface and fiddle with the machines. Dean’s first thought is, well,  _rude_ , so he clears his throat to break the silence and the dark haired man continues to make no effort to acknowledge Dean’s existence. He’s going to have to have a talk with Gabe about the morning crew’s customer service, or lack thereof.

Dean makes his way to the counter and strums his fingers against the wood, clearing his throat just one more time for good measure, and finally speaking up. “Hey, bud, can I get a coffee? Black? Kinda’ in a bit of a rush here.”

The guy turns around and yep, the universe definitely hates him.

Mr. Rude-ass has the bluest eyes Dean’s ever seen, it almost makes him forget that,  _well_ , he’s a rude ass. Speaking of ass, Dean cranes his neck in what he thinks is a nonchalant fashion to get a look at the barista’s backside and confirms his suspicions that yes, Mr. Rude-ass indeed has a very fine ass.

The guy blinks and tilts his head in a manner that Dean should totally not find adorable and frowns, brows pinching together and lips pursed into a thin line. “Did you just check out my ass?”

Dean has been called a lot of things and let it be known that subtle was not one.

He feels a blush creeping up the back of his neck.  _Fuck, fuck, fuck._  “What? No, I just thought- it looked like maybe you had something- nevermind. You gonna get me that coffee or what?” It’s way too damn early to feel like a fool, especially one babbling on like he’s never had a conversation in his life.

“Oh, that’s a shame,” the barista’s frown faintly quirks into a smile and  _holy shit_ , Dean’s heart feels like it’s trying to make a break for it. Is tall, blue and handsome seriously flirting with him at the crack of dawn? Dean feels his mouth opening and closing like a fish out of water but it seems his vocal chords are on vacation. He must look like an idiot because the guy laughs and says, “I’ll be right back with that.”

Great, this gives him a minute to recoup and collect himself. He’s Dean Winchester, for fuck’s sake, he has it on good authority that his green eyes and freckles can charm the pants off anyone. He’s got this.  _He’s got this_. Oh, and he’s coming back now with the coffee.

_Don’t look below the belt._

_Don’t look below the belt._

_Don’t look below the belt._

_Damn, those are some nice hips_ \- fuck, no, stop it.

Look somewhere else, anywhere else.

Dean’s eyes travel up, up and up until they land on a name tag that reads “Cas”. Where has he heard that name before?

“You’re Gabe’s brother,” Dean blurts out, taking the coffee and digging in his back pocket for his wallet.

Cas holds up his hand, “It’s on the house, don’t worry about it.” Dean blinks a few times but pulls a couple crumpled ones out anyway and shoves them in the tip jar. “Yes, I am, unfortunately. You must be Dean.”

Oh.

“How’d you know that?” He takes a sip of his coffee, carefully so not to burn his tongue.

“Just a hunch,” Cas shrugs and then smiles again, “you’re also wearing your uniform, I can see your name badge,” he actually winks then and  _whoops_ , Dean’s heart is doing that flutter thing again and his cheeks are warming up, which he is totally blaming on the hot coffee (that’s actually pretty good). Dean takes another sip and Cas continues, “I’ve heard Gabriel mention you a time or two, I just put it together.”

“Do me a favor then, Cas,” Dean’s surprised his voice comes out as confident and stable as it sounds, “let’s not tell him about this,” he carefully waves the coffee around and smiles.  _You got this, Winchester_. “It’ll be our little secret.”

Cas leans against the counter, smirk playing on his lips. “Okay, fine. Only if you tell me what made the infamous no-coffee-house Dean Winchester change his mind.”

“My coffee machine broke this morning. It was this, Starbucks or the sad excuse for coffee in the breakroom. Sometimes you just gotta’ pick the lesser of three evils. A man has to have his morning fuel, you know?”

That frown and head-tilt is back- not cute,  _not cute, not cute_. “Actually I don’t. I’m more of a tea person.”

Dean pulls a face and Cas pretends to be offended. When Dean leaves to clock in a the auto shop he’s feeling just a little bit warmer and yeah, he’s just going to blame that on the coffee too.

______

 **  
**“Dean-o! You’ve broken my heart. I mean, honestly, I feel completely and utterly betrayed! You accept a coffee from my kid brother? A black coffee- no nothing? No sugar, no cream, no spice? Just-”

“Will you shut the hell up and give me my pie?”

Gabe is looking one-hundred percent wrenched as he slides Dean the to-go container of cherry pie. Dean rolls his eyes for probably the thousandth time in the past fifteen minutes of arriving at Angelcakes.

It seems Cas didn’t keep his secret. He’d have to deal with that when he saw the barista. Dean decided to ignore the fact that his brain apparently subconsciously intended to see Cas again.

______

“I have a bone to pick with you,” Dean slams his hand down on the counter, he’s not really mad, how could he be with Cas bent over, picking up a box of supplies and those khaki’s doing all the right things to his ass (which is definitely not a statement he thought he would ever make).

“I don’t have any idea what you’re talking about,” Cas bats those dark eyelashes and feigns innocence while pouring a cup of fresh coffee and sliding it to Dean.

“I thought your brother was going to either kill me or himself yesterday,” Dean takes a drink and he can tell Cas is trying his hardest to keep a straight face.

“He’s always been a little over-dramatic.”

Dean gives an affirmative grunt against the lip of the cup and Cas leans against the counter into Dean’s personal space; from this distance he can smell his cologne, something a little sweet mixed with the coffee scent he’s always brewing. It’s the best thing he’s ever had the pleasure of smelling.

_____________

“Are Wal-Mart’s coffee pots out of stock or something?”

“Good morning to you, Cas.”

Cas already has his drink ready and waiting seeing that it’s the fifth consecutive day in a row that Dean has been in. It’s become a routine that they’ve has comfortably slipped into.

_____________

Dean learns that Cas is taking night classes and that’s why he only works the early morning hours. He also works every day because he shares the apartment above Angelcakes with Gabriel and he’s already up, needs the money, so why not? His and Gabe’s family is incredibly religious and they are the black sheep out of seven children. Cas’ full name is Castiel James Novak but he prefers Cas and _hates_  Cassie. His favorite color is green, his favorite animal is a bee (which Dean insists doesn’t count) and outside of work he wears a tan trench-coat that makes him look like an adorable flasher.

In turn, Cas hears all about Sam, who is currently at Stanford, his father who drank too much and his mother who died too young. Cas learns that Dean is selfless, caring and brave through his stories even though Dean could never say those words about himself aloud. He learns that Dean’s favorite songs are Ramble On and Traveling Riverside Blues and Cas goes home and listens to both. He finds out that next to Sam the Impala, or as he calls her, Baby, is the most important thing in his life. He could talk on and on about the car and even though Cas isn’t much of an auto man himself, he could let Dean go on forever and he probably wouldn’t get bored.

When Dean mentions that he has a deep love for apple pie Cas makes sure there is a piece waiting beside his coffee the next morning.

__________

 **  
**“Don’t be mad.”

“Cas, saying things like that means I’m more than likely going to be mad.”

Dean hasn’t even made it five steps into Angelcakes and Cas is rushing to get behind the counter. There isn’t his normal coffee and pie waiting and a worried feeling drops in his stomach like a stone. Cas is looking flustered and worried, which is by all means unusual.

“I know it’s a couple weeks until your birthday,” Dean opens his mouth to protest but Cas cuts him off before he can, “but I got you something anyway.”  

“You didn’t have to do that,” Dean says but he still tries to peak over the bar where Cas is pulling a box from beneath the counter. He sits it down with a large  _thud_  and Dean blinks at least fifteen times.

It’s a coffee maker and not just any coffee maker- a plain, old, single pot Mr. Coffee.

“You trying to get rid of me, Cas?”

Cas looks like he’s been punched in the gut for a split second but when Dean smiles, wide and genuine, his face relaxes. “Of course not, it’s just… I’m out of school for the next couple weeks so I decided to take a couple days off from work. I know you need your coffee and I wouldn’t be here to brew it for you.”

“I’m sure someone is going to be here to cover your shifts.”

Cas’ face falls.

Oh.

 _Oh_.

“Unless,” Dean continues, drawing the word out, waiting for any kind of reaction from Cas and when he sees his face light up with attention he continues, “you wanna come to my place and make me some coffee?”

Cas smiles now. It’s toothy, wide and probably the most wonderful thing Dean has ever seen.

“That was the general idea.”

“You know, you’d have to come over pretty early, it’d only make sense to stay the night.”

“Of course, that’s only logical.”

“If you’re going to stay the night you might as well come over after my shift at Bobby’s.”

“I agree.”

“Which is roughly around five and as you know that’s when a lot of people eat dinner, so we could always do that too.”

“Dean Winchester, are you asking me on a date?”

Dean can’t hold back his smile, “Depends, what would you say?”

“Well, it’s a secret,” Cas leans over the counter until his face is practically on the other side of the bar. He holds up one hand and wiggles his index finger at Dean, beckoning him to come closer. He only has to lean forward slightly for Cas to grab the lapels of his coat and crush their lips together.

Cas’ lips are soft, though slightly chapped, and warm moving against him. It takes Dean’s brain a moment to kick-start and get with the program. Cas is kissing him.  _Cas_  is kissing  _him_.  _Cas is kissing him_. Then he’s kissing back and threading his fingers through that soft dark hair and running his hands along the permanent stubble of his cheeks. He doesn’t even know how long he’s been waiting for this moment but he figures the desire originated sometime during that first morning he walked into the coffee shop to find Cas there.   

Cas pulls away tentatively and Dean chases his lips with his, pressing one last chaste kiss to them. His breathing is heavy and quick when he whispers in the space between them, “I thought you’d never ask.”

 

**Author's Note:**

> I posted this a while back when I was going to try and do a cheesy trope challenge. However, I am indescribably lazy and a master procrastinator...so it ended at this. One tiny ficlet. I really liked it though and decided to transfer it over to this account. 
> 
> I am thinking doing some time stamps in the universe though. Possibly.


End file.
